


The Harry Show

by Chasingcara



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, But Harry doesn't know they know him, Feminization, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg Louis, Pretty much everyone in the world knows Harry, Truman Show, just a bit though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasingcara/pseuds/Chasingcara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an au where everyone watches harry, but harry can't stop watching louis.</p>
<p>or </p>
<p>a truman show au where 100,000,000 people watch harry every day and he has absolutely no idea. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="http://chasingcaraa.tumblr.com">tumblr</a><br/><a></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Harry Show

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't seen the movie The Truman Show (1998) starring Jim Carrey, you really should. basically, this guy realizes that his entire life is a stage, and that almost the entire world is watching him live in it. you won't not get this story if you hadn't seen it, i'd like to think that i made it clear enough. if not, though, feel free to comment any questions you might have! 
> 
> cara xx

au ; everyone watches harry and harry watches louis 

_“Tell us what you like about the Harry Show.”_

_The boy shifts in his chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and shoving his hands under his thighs. His fringe is messy and tousled by the wind but his eyes are electric blue, unimaginably beautiful but cutting, too, painful to some but enrapturing to most._

_He opens his mouth once, pausing a moment and then wetting his lips, shutting them again. His eyebrows crinkle when he says, finally, “I like how… off the cuff it is, I guess.” Pearly white front teeth dig into his moist bottom lip before he lets it snap back into place, eyes cast off camera, focused on the shoes of the crew as they bustle around offscreen. “It’s extremely raw, extremely natural, I think, and that’s something this society does not have much of these days.” The boy laughs a bit and shifts again, this time stretching out his bad knee before returning to his previous position. “I’m living in a world that isn’t mine. I’m living in… in a dollhouse, of sorts.” Louis grins. “And I’ve always loved to play games.”_

  
  


**s e a s o n** **t w e n t y - o n e** **,** **e p i s o d e** **6 - 5**

“You’re not supposed to go back there, baby, you know that.” 

Louis’ hands are soothing, gentle on Harry’s biceps, rubbing up and down soft and slow. People are bustling around them, busy busy busy, some dressed in colourful scrubs like Louis and some dressed casually, waiting with crossed legs and twiddling thumbs to have their name called. It’s maddening - the whole thing is maddening, waiting like that, unsure and scared, completely at the mercy of other people. 

Louis doesn’t understand that.

“I… I missed you and I have a cut?” Harry shoves his index finger in front of his husband’s face. “I cut it on that knife we were washing in the sudsy part of the sink and it was bleeding a lot, Lou, you know how I always bleed tons? And I missed you.” 

Louis takes Harry’s finger between his own and examines the white, fluffy bandage wrapped around it, how a couple specks of red can be seen bleeding through the material. His pink tongue pokes between his pearly teeth as he glances over the work of his one of his colleagues. “Even if you missed me and you were bleeding tons, that doesn’t mean you can rush right past the waiting room doors and yell for me, Harry.” 

The taller boy bounces on the balls of his feet, so much energy and so many words he wants to say but Louis is already annoyed with him, he’s already at the end of his string, and Harry doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight. So he bites his tongue and crinkles his eyebrows together, whining just slightly. Louis laughs. He says “Why don’t you go home? You can bake those little cookie things you were talking about earlier. What are those again?”

“Pizzelles” Harry murmurs quietly, looking to his feet. 

“Yeah, that’s what it is. Why not go and make those and we can talk when I get home.” Louis kisses Harry’s shoulder and grabs his hand. The two of them walk towards the doors and Harry tries really hard not to yell at him because they never talk, really, never talk about things that matter. 

Louis calls it high-maintenance but Harry calls it lonely.

“Can we… um.” Harry clears his throat and gets close to Louis’ ear, bending down, whispering, “can we do naked stuff when you get home? A little?”

Louis pinches at Harry’s hip as he winks and turns to walk away, arse swaying side to side because he has Harry wrapped around his pinky finger, wrapped tight like a string, and he knows just how to cut it. 

_Louis walks through the swinging hospital doors and he’s got a script shoved into his hands, people hustling him down the hallway and cameramen zooming in on that pretty face of his. They’re saying things like “that was a close call”, and “he’s got to become more self-reliant or this is all gonna go to shit.” The actors that had been in wheelchairs or had bandages wrapped in various places on their bodies stripped from their costumes and disappeared backstage, getting pat on the back for their excellent work._

_He didn’t suspect a thing. Louis finds it disturbing sometimes how people consider that a job well done._

_“Nice work, Louis, with the sex reference,” the producer tells him, walking at a brisk pace alongside the smaller boy. “We are still working up towards that on-air conception -”_

_“I understand, Reggie,” he interrupts, stomach turning only slightly at the thought of the cameras continuing to roll once the clothes come off, instead of turning the opposite way as usual. They say the baby will be the next Harry - growing up with everyone watching their every move. First steps, first words … first heartbreak. Louis swallows down the knot tying tight in his throat and rolls his script up, holding it in his fist._

_The man walking next to him is speaking._

_There’s a car out front._

_Harry’s making cookies._

_100,000,000 viewers._

_The world is spinning, and Louis is standing still._

  
  
  


“S’ that you, Louis?”

Harry sets the cookie sheet on the countertop to cool, pulling at the fingertips of his oven mitts and setting them beside it. The sound of shoes on the hardwood in the front hallway echoes throughout the house and Harry really just wants to see Louis, wants to kiss Louis, wants to touch Louis. His fingers start to twitch at his sides so he clutches at the hem of his t-shirt to keep them still. “Lou?”

“Yeah babe.” His bag hits the ground and socked feet pad to Harry’s place in the kitchen. Louis looks a bit worn, a bit tired, with his hair a mess around his face and his scrubs wrinkled around his little tummy. The smaller boy leans into his husband and lets those long, muscled arms wrap around his back, one hand drifting down to lightly tap his arse. (It just looks so cute in his work uniform and Harry has hardly seen him in a week - you really can’t blame him). 

“I’m sorry I interrupted you at work,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ hair, fingers gliding over the planes in Louis’ back. “I just missed you lots.” 

“I know,” Louis reassures before Harry can get too worked up, lips pressing chaste and wet against his neck. “It’s okay, baby, just next time call me, yeah? Just call me and we can talk.” 

“But you’re at work and you won’t have time -”

“I always make time for you.”

Harry wants to tell him that he’s telling him lies, that there are _lies_ falling from his pretty little lips, but his mouth stays closed. Louis would probably just kiss him to shut him up if he’d said anything anyway. 

“Smells good, Haz,” Louis says, breaking from Harry’s embrace and striding over to the countertop. Harry idly wonders how someone could look so, so good after eight hours of taking care of people, how someone could look so, so good in any circumstance. Sometimes, when Harry’s been good and Louis wants to reward him, he’ll put mascara on his lashes and wear pretty panties for Harry to eye, to admire. But even when he isn’t trying, Louis is easily the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever laid eyes on. “How long’ve you been working on these?” 

Harry shrugs. “Dunno’, a couple hours maybe? I was watching The X-Factor while they were cooking.” Louis looks over to the living room to see the television put on mute, a soft blanket draped across the back of the sofa and pillows haphazardly thrown across the sectional. Harry has a habit of lying diagonally across the cushions so his lanky body is taking up almost the whole thing and pulling Louis in by his hips, situating his husband’s body so his small legs are straddling Harry’s waist and his small hands are planted on Harry’s chest. Lou is just so easy to maneuver and love on. He says he doesn’t like to be taken care of, but whenever Harry makes him food or tucks him in or picks him up from work, there’s this look he gets that makes Harry all warm inside. Taking care of Louis is a kind of addiction Harry can’t kick.

“Can we go to bed now?” Harry asks, crowding up behind Louis and bending down to whisper in his ear. “Pleeeease?” 

“Harry it’s six o’clock -”

“No, no. Like… _go to bed.”_

Louis swallows and reaches for Harry’s hands, pinning them to his sides. “Lemme go outside for a smoke first, yeah? Then we can go upstairs.” Harry pouts and starts to complain about how Louis always, always smokes just before they have sex and he tastes like nicotine and smoke when they kiss, but Louis just pecks his nose and heads outside, ignoring him. He nicks his cigarettes from the table by the door and slides them into his back pocket before stepping out the front door. 

_“He doesn’t need a baby yet,” Louis pleads into the phone, knees tucked up near his chest as he sucks on his cigarette. “He’s so young, you know? He’s really young and he’s dependent on me.”_

_Reggie sighs on the other side of the line. He watches one of the screens in his editing room as he chews at the end of his pen, watching Harry strip out of his shirt and pace around the bedroom, tugging at his curls. “That’s what will make it good television, Louis. I know you’re scared - this is a big deal, I understand - but Harry’s always come through for you when you needed it. I don’t doubt he’ll do the same for the baby.”_

_Louis crushes his smoke underneath his converse-clad heel, rubbing at his eyes. “I just… I don’t want to have my first pregnancy be with a man who’s unaware his whole life is staged -”_

_“Don’t speak like that with him so close,” Reggie snaps. Louis hangs his head between his knees and tries to breathe through all the guilt that’s clouding his brain. “Just do it, Louis. He won’t suspect anything - the condom’s already got holes in it. Just make sure he grabs the one on the nightstand, not in the drawer. Viewers haven’t clued into the fact that you’d stopped your pills yet ; this should be quite the surprise.”_

_Louis feels sick._

“Loubaby,” Harry slurs, already slightly tipsy off the wine he’s put in the bedroom to create a kind of sexy scenery. “Are you done smoking yet? Go brush your teeth and meet me here.” 

“Yeah, Haz” Louis reassures, taking the stairs two at a time, ignoring the nauseous feeling in his stomach. “Got everything ready?” He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry. “Condom’s already on the nightstand.” 

  
  


**s e a s o n** **t w e n t y - o n e** **,** **e p i s o d e** **7 - 2 5**

_“Harry doesn’t know yet.”_

_The interviewer grins and there’s red lipstick on her front tooth. “Do you think he’ll be excited? We did see him in episode 3-4 of this year playing with that baby next door. Wonderful acting done by Renee Shards, the mother of that child, yes?” The audience claps and Louis sits on his hands._

_“Um, yeah. He’ll be excited, I think.” He’s nodding, trying to assure himself that what he’s saying is true. “No, no I know he’ll be excited,” Louis smiles, fake confidence leaking out of every pore, shining off every pearly tooth. The interviewer nods with him, almost like she’s encouraging him, egging him on._

_“So, Louis, how did you get this job? How did you come to terms with the fact that you would have to give up your entire life just to come here and get married to Harry?”_

_Scenes start to roll on the big screens behind Louis, hanging above his head, the audience cooing and smiling fondly at the pictures of their wedding day, at the way Harry cried when he saw Louis walk down the aisle. Then the screen switches to fall leaves and bundled up bodies walking in the park. Harry’s hand was so clammy that day, Louis remembers, and the first time they kissed was too wet and a bit clumsy but Louis fell in love with him just the way the rest of the world did in that moment._

_The petite boy feels fear starting to clog his throat again, feels it trying to choke him from the inside out, so he takes one skittish glance over to his publicist and hopes she gets the message. His mouth feels dry as it opens. “It was….” he looks over again to the woman in the matching navy trousers and blazer, “It was….”_

_“Cut, cut,” Mary calls, swinging her clipboard wildly to catch the attention of the cameraman who was still poised on Louis’ fish mouthed expression. “That was a blacklisted question, Karen,” the publicist scolds, helping Louis out of his mic and gripping his wrist. “You should be ashamed.”_

_And they exit the studio, Louis’ chest heaving ; he feels so so dirty around these people._

_A tear falls from his eyes when he realizes that he’s the dirtiest out of all of them._

“Hi Lou!” Harry beams. He’s got on a slouchy sweater with sleeves that cover his hands like mittens, and ripped blue jeans that are neatly folded and cuffed around the ankles. He smells of winter and cinnamon and his hair has been styled so it lays flat and neat against his head. When Harry pads over to his husband in bare feet and excitement, Louis suddenly doesn’t feel like crying anymore. “Guess what we’re doing later tonight?” 

The living room feels dimmer than usual, and Louis feels like someone’s going to pop out from around the corner and tug Harry away from him, burn out the only flame he has left. The smaller boy leans into his husband and rests his head against where Harry’s heart is beating steadily. “Can we just stay in tonight, baby? I… I’m not feeling well,” Louis says, squeezing Harry a little tighter around his middle. Within seconds Louis’ in the air, hands resting on the curve of his bum as his legs wrap around his husband’s waist, supported and enveloped in a love that’s so innocent and unknowing and Louis has to tell him. 

Louis _has to tell him_.

“Sorry about that, Lou,” Harry says, a pout coloring his words. “Have you got a fever?” 

“No, I think it’s just a cold -” 

Then Harry’s gasping, setting Louis down gently on the bed. Louis hadn’t even noticed him going upstairs. “What if you’re pregnant?” He says excitedly, eyes alight with something so much more than love. “Wouldn’t that be great, Lou? Wouldn’t that be so good?”

“Yeah, Haz -”

“Have you got a test somewhere? Is there a way we can find out without having to wait, like, _ages_ for an appointment?” Harry asks, already on his feet and scouring around the bathroom for that elusive test. His voice echoes off the tile as he says, “I love babies. And this baby would be _ours,_ just ours Louis, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

And as Louis lays down on the bed, tears clouding his vision, he whispers, “Oh, Harry. We’ll have to share the baby with everyone.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
